


An Honest Conversation

by ArbitraryRenaissance



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 21:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17926610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArbitraryRenaissance/pseuds/ArbitraryRenaissance
Summary: In order to convince Qibli into accepting his offer to be an animus, Darkstalker knows that he needs Qibli to trust him. To ensure that, he enchants a torch to reveal his own lies. How might have things changed if Qibli knew that Darkstalker was being honest?





	An Honest Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Tui T. Sutherland is the eternal Queen of the FanWing Kingdom.
> 
> This story functionally serves as a rewrite of Darkness of Dragons, chapters 28 and 29. Please ensure that you have read through that book in its entirety before reading this.
> 
> The first three paragraphs of this story are Queen Sutherland's words: you can find them near the beginning of the original chapter 28 (17 paragraphs in, to be precise). There are also a handful of sentences scattered throughout that are either identical or close derivatives to what was originally written.

-(Q)-

Darkstalker sat on an outcropping just above him, blocking the route to the sky. He plucked a stone from the cliff and conjured it into a compact ball of flames, setting it spinning beside him like a haunted imitation of the sun. The glow illuminated the cramped crawl space around Qibli, barely large enough for a dragon the size of Darkstalker to turn around if he squashed his wings in and stood on his own tail as he did it.

All around Qibli were claw marks in the stone, hundreds upon hundreds of scratches, some of them firm and bold, others tiny and slanted to fit in around the others. A discarded scrap of rusty metal wires lay near the opening, frayed and looped around a trio of misty white gemstones.

His tail brushed something the size of a tooth. When Qibli bent to pick it up, it turned out to be a mouse skull rubbed almost smooth as velvet.

Darkstalker was motionless as the high walls that surrounded them, frowning at Qibli as if he were contemplating which of his limbs would be the most satisfying to yank out. Qibli tried to avoid his glare, and scanned the overhead for potential routes of escape. He had a few questionable ideas, but they required the assumption that Darkstalker was about thirty times stupider than he really was. It was a pretty grim situation, being hundreds of feet underground and guarded by the most dangerous dragon in all of Pyrrhia.

Then, suddenly, Darkstalker's face lit up. "I've got it!" he said. He turned to the light and cleared his throat ostentatiously. "Enchant this ball of flames to turn blue for three heartbeats whenever I tell a lie."

Qibli flicked his eyes cautiously at the little sun between them. Darkstalker stared proudly at it. "Now," he said, "I am a tiny little scavenger with tiny pink paws."

A wave of bright blue washed over the ball, recoloring the entire cave into the hues of winter. And then, the flame went back to its quiet, orange glow.

"There we go," Darkstalker said. "I need you to trust me with what we're going to be discussing. Bad timelines spring up if you don't."

Qibli raised an eyebrow at Darkstalker.  _Does he really think I'm that gullible? Surely he enchanted the flames in other ways than that. He could have added anything to that enchantment in his mind, like a spell to make the color change only when Darkstalker's lies were obvious. I'm not going to be fooled that easily._

"Ah, yes, yes, I know what you're thinking, Qibli," Darkstalker said hastily. "Perhaps I did something nefarious with this fire, like put a spell on it in my mind. Fair enough, let's try this again." He pointed his snout at the ball of light. "Undo that last enchantment, and stay the same color regardless of what I say. Now—" He plucked a second rock from the cliff and said, "Enchant this rock so that it only follows the animus commands I speak out loud.  _Now_ , turn into a lit torch whose flame turns blue for three heartbeats whenever and only whenever I speak a lie."

The stone transfigured into a long wooden torch, sporting a deep orange flame that danced in-time with the flickers on the fireball. Darkstalker shoved the base of the torch into a crack against the wall. "There we go," he said. "Now I can't deceive you."

The torch wavered and turned blue, and Darkstalker stared bemusedly at it. "Well, I'm sure you get my point," he mumbled. "Now, I can't be verbally dishonest with you without you finding out. How about that, torch?"

The torch happily fluffed back to its original orange.

"Alright," he said. "Now that we've got that worked out—"

"—Promise me I'll get out of here alive," Qibli demanded.

Darkstalker blinked. "What?"

"I'm not listening to a word you say until I know that I'm not going to die down here." Qibli's eyes were locked on the torch. "If you're going to kill me, then at least do it in the sunlight. Please."

"I'm not going to kill you, Qibli," Darkstalker said, sounding slightly offended.

The torch stayed its normal color, but Qibli stayed guarded.  _That might not mean anything. I still might not be safe. Maybe he just hasn't decided whether or not to kill me. Do predictions count as lies if they haven't been determined yet?_

"I'm not playing any traps or tricks on you," Darkstalker insisted. "Bring your eyes back to me and let's talk."

Qibli's tail rose to a curl over his back instinctively, even though he knew logically that his stinger would be ineffective against Darkstalker. He drifted his eyes back to him and said, "Why did you bring me here?"

Darkstalker relaxed his wings and whisked his tail around so that it curled in front of him. "I trust you've already figured out where we are."

Qibli's eyes darted around the cavity. "This is where Clearsight left you," he said, holding onto his caution. "This was where you slept for two thousand years. That's the armband that she put on you." He nudged the fragments of wire on the ground. "And those claw-marks are the days you spent awake and trapped down here. And this mouse skull is probably the remains of the only meal you had while you were trapped."

"And my only friend, before I met Moon," Darkstalker added.

"So, you took me here in an effort to make me feel sorry for you," Qibli guessed. He realized, to his surprise, that it was kind of working. The narrow pit they were in was cramped enough to make Qibli want to fly back up to the sky, latch onto the sun, and never let go of it again. It must have been unimaginable being trapped down here for months, all alone, starving, hardly even able to move.

Darkstalker cracked a half-smile at him. "You gave me the idea to bring you down here, actually," he said cheerily.

The torch turned blue.

"What? He didn't?" Darkstalker asked to the torch. "Okay, fine, I suppose I would have brought you down here anyway, but I did figure that since your little empathy spell was so successful, it wouldn't hurt for us to understand each other a little better."

Qibli traced his claws around the eye sockets of the mouse skull. His first instinct was to be abrasive, and to deny his own involvement in that spell, even though Darkstalker would probably be smart enough to see through that lie. But it really felt to Qibli like Darkstalker was making an honest attempt to get his attention, and (if only temporarily,) his trust. His eyes, which were normally so cold and hungry and said, "don't even think about turning me into your enemy," were now soft and curious and said, "I would really like you to be my friend." Darkstalker wasn't interested in lies and deceptions, but instead he wanted to be true and perhaps even a little respectful. For some reason, Darkstalker was willing to open himself up to him. It seemed like a bad idea to squander this opportunity with his own deceptions.

Besides, the Darkstalker that Qibli thought he knew would never even attempt to do something like this. Maybe it really would be a good idea to try and understand him better, if he was going to find a way to destroy him.

"Is there any reason you chose  _me_ for this privilege?" Qibli asked, his tone rife with suspicion. "Of all the dragons at Jade Mountain that you could have scooped up and brought down here, why me? Why not Moon? Or one of the teachers, like Starflight or Sunny?"

"There are a lot of reasons I chose you specifically, but let's start with a simple one: I like you. You're a dragon whose intelligence I respect." Darkstalker tapped the floating sun, and it drifted closer to Qibli. "When Moon gave you and your friends the skyfire, I knew it was going to be your mind that I'd miss the most."

Qibli expected the torch to change color at any of those statements, but it never did. Why? What made him so special to Darkstalker? Was it because Darkstalker saw how twisted his mind was and found it entertaining? Was it because he was always conjuring up clever, evil little schemes to manipulate other dragons into liking him while everyone else worried about their schoolwork?

"You're a smart dragon, Qibli, perhaps as smart as me," Darkstalker said. "And you have a way of reading and understanding others that I've never seen from anyone else. Of all the dragons I know, I think it's you that I have the best chance at getting through to.

"There's another reason I like you, though: I feel sorry for you. I really do." His tail gently brushed against the corner of Qibli's wing, and he bowed his head slightly. "You have a tortured heart. I seem to have a soft spot for dragons with those, especially when it was their parents or grandparents who did the torturing."

Qibli scowled at him. "Are you talking about my mother? What do  _you_  know about her?"

"I know enough," Darkstalker said calmly. "She swam around in your head and haunted your memories almost every day. I know that she hated you since the day you were hatched. I know that you tried to earn her love every second you were around her. I know that she was the one who gave you that scar." He pointed his tail at Qibli's snout, and Qibli brushed his talons over the zig-zagged mark that he'd had there since he was two. His eyes grew wide. Darkstalker knew all that just by reading through his memories?

"I also know," Darkstalker went on, "that there's a part of you that wants to believe that if only you had done things differently, you might have proven yourself good enough for her. Maybe if you'd figured things out sooner, or if you were stronger and faster. Sometimes you even wish that you'd angered her  _more_  when you were around, because at least when she got angry she gave you attention. At least when she was throwing you against the wall, you were helping her release her frustration."

" _Stop it_ ," Qibli barked out. This was way too creepy. How did Darkstalker figure all that out? How did Qibli's thoughts tell him all that? Did Moon know about all this too? Did she secretly think he was crazy for still wanting to love his mother? Did she know about all the horrible things he did in the Scorpion Den to try and convince her that he was a valuable son? Did she only become his friend to try and distract him from the memories his mother had left him with?

"I don't think you've ever given anyone the opportunity to say this to you, so let me be the first," Darkstalker said. "There was nothing you could have done. She was going to despise you no matter what, just like how my father despised me no matter what."

Qibli hung his head low and said, "I know."

"You should be proud of yourself," Darkstalker said with a smile. "Despite everything, you still ended up better than most dragons—and certainly a better dragon than anyone else in your family."

Qibli felt something inside his chest. An odd sense of warmth, as if his heart was snuggling up against the desert sun. Did he… _appreciate_  Darkstalker's compliment? Did he feel happy knowing that Darkstalker liked him and wanted him to feel good about himself?

He caught himself lingering on that emotion and quickly tried to shove it away. Darkstalker was just trying to manipulate him the same way his mother had tried to—by jabbing at the weak spots in his heart. It wasn't going to work. Darkstalker was still an evil dragon, and he still needed to be taken down.

"I think you and I are more alike than you want to admit," Darkstalker said with a smaller voice. "You have big ideas, wonderful ideas, all the time. And you have the ambition to try and make them come true. You want to right all the wrongs in this world, solve all the world's problems, do the most good. And you  _know_  how to do it all, if only you had the power and the means to do so. The only difference between you and me is that I was hatched an animus, and you weren't."

The torchlight turned blue.

"Qibli, do you mind if I make it so that this fire only turns blue when I  _intentionally_  tell a lie?" Darkstalker asked with an impatient scowl directed at the torch. "This is starting to get on my nerves."

Qibli ignored the question and instead said, "There are some other important differences between us. First of all, if I had powers, I would use them to  _fight_  evil, not to propagate it."

Darkstalker barked with laughter. "You really think my plans are for  _evil_? Qibli, I can  _see_  the futures. I can see the wonderful world that arises from my benevolent reign. Every dragon in Pyrrhia is safe and happy under my rule, and all the tribes are united and at peace. Isn't that what any dragon would want? Prosperity, unity, safety, happiness, and peace? How is that evil?"

Qibli shook his head. "I'm sorry, Darkstalker, but I don't believe you."

"You—" Darkstalker pointed a talon at the torch. "Qibli, you'd  _know_  if I was lying."

"How many IceWings are in this future?" Qibli asked, nearly overlapping the last word Darkstalker spoke.

Darkstalker opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. Then he opened his mouth again, then shut it again.

"Darkstalker—" Qibli started.

"There are…some timelines where the IceWings don't get wiped out entirely," Darkstalker said awkwardly. "I'll admit that keeping them all alive wasn't at the top of my priorities, but maybe it should—"

"—Oh, yeah, you're not evil at all," Qibli interrupted.

"Look, they keep getting in the way!" Darkstalker snapped. "Have you forgotten how much they hate me? There is  _no_  future I can see where they leave my Kingdom alone."

Qibli wielded a disappointed glare, but remained silent.

Darkstalker sighed. "Okay, fine. It won't be worth it, but if you insist, I'm sure I can move us to a future where you have your precious IceWings as well. But I'll only be able to do it if you say yes to my offer."

"Your  _offer_ ," Qibli echoed.

"Yes," Darkstalker said, a smile creeping in on his face. "It's a wonderful offer. A once-in-a-lifetime offer. An offer that you would have to be a fool to turn down." Darkstalker's eyes twitched briefly to the torch. Perhaps he was expecting it to change color, but it stayed its lucid orange.

"You don't need me to tell you that you have the mind to do incredible things," Darkstalker went on. "You already know what you're capable of. You just don't have the power. Instead, it's Turtle who does."

Qibli stared guiltily at his talons as he felt the jealousy wash over his soul. It wasn't Turtle's fault that he was incompetent with his powers. It wasn't his fault for having a gift he didn't know how to use. He didn't deserve Qibli's resentment.

Darkstalker shook his head. "He's an animus who squanders his powers on silly, fleeting wishes, and you're left agonizing over all that wasted potential. I know that frustrates you."

"Turtle's a better animus dragon than you'll ever be," Qibli shot back before he could stop himself.

He could see something snap in Darkstalker's mind. His snout scrunched up and his pupils contracted into needle-thin slits. The stone he'd been perched on suddenly melted down and reshaped itself into a massive steel throne, with wicked curls rising behind it like pennons of fire reaching for the sky. Obsidian dragon wings rose up behind the steel, casting ghostly shadows onto the cliff behind it. With a flick of his snout, the ball of fire flew over Darkstalker's head and rematerialized into a spiky, twisted crown of silver with spires twice as long as his horns. He leaned in close to Qibli. "I am the  _greatest_  animus dragon in the world. Don't you  _ever_  compare me to a miserable shrimp like Turtle. He has all the potential of a sea slug and you know it."

Darkstalker was too busy with his pageantry to see that the torch had turned blue at his first sentence. Qibli couldn't help but feel less intimidated because of it. He kept his back straight and his head high, trying to prevent a quixotic smile from reaching his face.

Darkstalker took a few breaths, then leaned back into his throne. "I know he's your friend," he said as he calmed himself down. "And I'm sure he has a good heart. But you see his faults just as well as I do. You see the ways his magic can be used to help the needy and improve the world, and it makes your talons twitch with anger for it to be right there and yet so out of reach. If only  _you'd_  gotten those powers. If only  _you_ were born with that gift. I know it's what you've always wanted, Qibli: I saw it in your dreams and in your thoughts. It's a good dream to have. Maybe even the  _best_  dream to have, especially for someone like you." A slender snake made of polished stone scraped its way around Darkstalker's throne. It slithered into his claws, where it floated in mid-air and started spinning. Slowly, the snake transformed into a wash of jewels, as if shedding its scales one by one into emeralds and sapphires and pearls of black onyx. Qibli couldn't take his eyes off of it.

"It isn't fair for you to bear the burden of powerlessness," Darkstalker said as he sent the jewels spiraling in a glimmering galaxy over his crown. It began radiating a purple glow, casting another layer of light over the shadows. He then looked directly at Qibli. "I want to fix that. I want to share my power with you. I want to make you an animus."

Qibli felt his body swirling faster than the vortex of gemstones. Darkstalker wasn't lying. The torch didn't change color. He really wanted to give him that power. He wanted to do something that even Turtle, one of his closest friends, was unwilling to offer him. "…Why?" he whispered, still only half-believing it.

"Because the futures where you become one are much better than the futures where you don't," Darkstalker explained. "They're better for you, for me, for Moon, and for the well-being of Pyrrhia."

Qibli cocked his head. That couldn't be right. If he became an animus, the first thing he would do, after protecting his soul, was take away as much power from Darkstalker as he could. "There has to be a catch," Qibli said.

"Correct, there is," Darkstalker responded. Idly, he plucked a green gemstone from his swirling collection and it began to glow. "I bet you can guess what it is, too."

"I can't use my magic to hurt you," Qibli suggested.

"Close, but not quite," Darkstalker said. With a wave of his hand, five tiny sapphires flew out of the mix of NightWing-colored gemstones and began orbiting the glowing emerald that he had summoned before. "I don't need to enchant you to protect me from your magic. I could do that myself, like I've already done with Turtle. I do, however, need to protect my  _spells_  from you. If I enchant something, you can't override that enchantment, nor can you create something that grants anyone immunity from that enchantment. I need your magic to be powerless against mine, otherwise you keep getting in the way of my plans and it gets very annoying."

Calculations crunched through Qibli's mind. Was that really all Darkstalker needed to ensure that Qibli wasn't a threat? There had to be workarounds. Maybe he could ask Turtle to remove that restriction. And if that didn't work, then maybe he could….Hmm….

Taking him down directly would be impossible. He would need the aid of unenchanted objects if he wanted to even try. But with animus magic, he could summon unenchanted objects to him with ease.  _I think I'm smarter than Darkstalker. I can find a way to outwit him_.

Besides, wasn't restricted animus magic better than no animus magic at all? What was there to lose by accepting? "There has to be another catch," Qibli echoed.

"Nope, that's the only one," Darkstalker said. "I envision us becoming allies in the future. I envision you helping me, giving me better ideas than I could have come up with myself. I may be a great animus, but I know I'm not perfect. I know I make mistakes. And I know that animus mistakes tend to have harsher consequences. You can help me avoid them, Qibli. You can keep me from hurting too many dragons. You and Moon. You'll be a couple, both of you by my side as I expand my kingdom, and I will trust you two to help guide me when I'm feeling lost."

Qibli's wings curled inward bashfully. "You see me and Moon together?" he sputtered, realizing that that was probably the last thing he should have been focusing on.

Darkstalker leaned in close, as if he suspected someone was eavesdropping on them. "I can even see little dragonets if I follow my favorite timelines far enough," he whispered, sounding thoroughly amused.

Qibli felt more lucid in that moment than he'd ever felt in his entire life. Little dragonets? With Moon?  _What would they look like? What would their names be? Would I end up being a good father? How would she end up loving me enough to want to have them?_

"Doesn't it sound like everything you want?" Darkstalker asked. "You have Moon, she has you, I have Clearsight, if I can get her right, and Pyrrhia is safe because of us. We don't have to be enemies, Qibli. We can be friends. Doesn't that sound better for both of us? For all of us?"

Qibli pulled himself back from his fantasy, feeling a bit lonelier knowing that he wasn't really living it. He tried to imagine what Darkstalker was imagining. Could they really be friends? Could they rule Pyrrhia side-by-side?

He watched as Darkstalker whispered to a pebble and it turned into a golden crown, just the right size for Qibli's head. Maybe this was the best way to keep the world safe from Darkstalker. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Qibli kind of liked the version of him that he was seeing. This Darkstalker was cunning and honest and friendly and starry-eyed enough to be a prophet—someone that he  _wanted_  to be friends with. And someone who wanted to be friends with  _him_.

But he stepped back and saw the larger, menacing form of Darkstalker that sat before him, perched upon his throne and wearing the twisted silver crown that matched it. And he realized what befriending this dragon would mean. Despite everything, this Darkstalker was still Darkstalker. This Darkstalker was still evil enough to scare his entire tribe away from their kingdom. This Darkstalker was still resentful enough to send a plague to end the entire IceWing tribe. This Darkstalker was still vicious enough to enchant Anemone to do his bidding.

Qibli looked down at his talons. "I don't think we can ever be friends," he said. "Not after everything you've done. Not when I know everything you can do."

Darkstalker's wings sagged, and he heaved a long sigh. "I really do like you, Qibli. I really want this to work. I want you to have at least  _some_  sympathy for me."

"I have sympathy for every dragon," Qibli remarked. "I've mastered the art of understanding others."

"Then  _show_  me that sympathy, Qibli," Darkstalker begged. "What would I need to do to redeem myself in your eyes?"

Qibli laughed. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," Darkstalker said. "I can't promise I'll agree with you, or that I'll do it, but I value your intellect enough that I want to hear it. Besides, I want to win Moon's trust, and that requires winning yours as well."

Qibli braced himself for what he was about to say. "You can start by giving up your crown."

Darkstalker snarled and roared, " _What?_ "

"Surrender the NightWing throne, and never go after it again."

"Qibli, I'm an animus dragon who can  _see the future_ ," Darkstalker pointed out. "How am I not  _clearly_ the best dragon to lead the NightWing tribe?"

"You didn't earn your kingdom," Qibli said. "You got it by manipulating everyone around you with animus magic."

"Only because  _they_  manipulated  _me_  first!" Darkstalker said, rising to his feet. "My name got twisted and distorted by my betrayers. I was simply taking a shortcut by fixing the defamation they cast upon me."

Even though the torch didn't change color, Qibli couldn't help but think that that wasn't the entire truth. "Clearsight and Fathom were your friends weren't they? They cared about you, and they always stayed by your side. What makes you think they'd want to twist and distort your name?"

Darkstalker snorted. "That's easy to explain. Fathom had a good heart, but a rough childhood. The poor dragon was an eye-witness to his grandfather going mad and massacring his family. He was terrified of animus magic, and didn't let himself see the potential that it had. He was only worried about me because he couldn't think big—not the way you and I can. Clearsight, even with her incredible visions of the future, was the same way. They couldn't accept that sometimes you needed to go down a dark path to reach the brightest futures."

"They were worried that you were going to use your magic to do bad things. You don't prove them wrong by brainwashing everyone around you the moment you get your powers back," Qibli said.

Darkstalker flicked his tongue. "I didn't  _brainwash_  them. I just gave them an instinct to like me. It's something I'm sure  _you_  would have done too if you had the chance."

"No, it's  _not,_ " Qibli fumed.

"Ah, but both of us know that's a lie, Qibli," Darkstalker said excitedly. " _You_  were the one who gave me the idea to cast that spell in the first place. You were thinking the  _exact_ same thing on your first day of school."

"I know," Qibli admitted. "I realize now that that was wrong."

"It's a bit convenient for you to hate the idea the moment mean old Darkstalker comes along and acts it out," Darkstalker said, folding his brow at Qibli. "Why did you change your mind?"

Qibli realized, much to his chagrin, that the most honest answer to that question was because Winter told him so. That answer probably wasn't going to be good enough for Darkstalker (it wasn't really good enough for himself either), so he had to pause for a moment to come up with a decent response. "Because I realized that it's not real," he finally said. "Friendship is something you're supposed to  _earn_. Trust is something that you gain by being trustworthy, not by magically reshaping the minds of everyone you meet."

"But…it  _is_  real. They  _actually_  feel a sense of trust around me, Qibli. They  _actually_  like me."

Qibli shook his head. "That's not what I mean," he said.

"Then what  _do_  you mean?" Darkstalker asked. "Am I not allowed to use magic to make other dragons happier? Or kinder?"

"Not if they don't want you to," Qibli answered.

"They only wouldn't want me to because they don't understand me," Darkstalker said, adjusting his crown. "Dragons don't always realize what's best for them. I'm sure Winter gave you a hard time when you gave him your earring. I'm sure he didn't _want_  to put it on."

"That doesn't count," Qibli said with a scowl. "He was under your enchantment first. He wasn't himself."

Darkstalker rolled his eyes. "Fine, how about  _this_ , then?"

He snapped his talons. There was a sharp  _crack_  in the air, and Vulture suddenly appeared beside Darkstalker.

Qibli's grandfather let out a surprised yell. "Where am I?" he shouted. "What did you do?" He darted his eyes around the cramped cavern he was transported to, then looked up at the tiny sliver of sky that shone down hundreds of feet above him.

Despite his perpetual cutthroat demeanor, Vulture was still a SandWing—and like any other SandWing, he had a deep-seated claustrophobia whenever he was far away from the sun. Qibli watched as Vulture's talons gripped tightly into the rock below him and his face washed over with fear. He watched as Vulture curled his wings inward and his breathing accelerated.

The rational side of Qibli told him that he would probably be safe, but his heart still tried to make a run for it. It bounced around in his chest like a panicking chinchilla, and he found himself shrinking down into the shadows of the crawlspace, hoping that if he made himself small enough then his grandfather wouldn't see him or hurt him.

"Enchant this dragon to obey my every command," Darkstalker said, pointing a talon at Vulture. "Now, stay where you are and don't speak."

Vulture lurched forward, thrashing his wings as if his legs were glued to the ground. He made a few guttural noises with his throat, but fell silent after running out of breath. He bowed his head and glared resentfully at his invisibly bound claws.

Darkstalker faced Qibli again. "This pathetic salamander has caused great misery to the Scorpion Den, and his crimes against other dragons are uncountable," he said, smacking his tail across Vulture's face. Vulture simply winced at the strike, but otherwise remained still, and then veered his glare over to Qibli. His eyes cut like daggers, piercing through his skin and crawling through his bones.

"Surely you believe he deserves to be punished for his actions," Darkstalker said. "What sort of  _real_  solutions would you have in mind? Killing him? Maybe torturing him first if you're up to it? Or letting out your anger and telling him exactly how you feel about him?"

 _Not that one_ , Qibli thought hastily.  _Definitely not that last one_.

"Those options just don't seem that good to me," Darkstalker went on. "They don't seem  _satisfying_  enough. They wouldn't give you a whole lot of closure, I don't think. And if you look at the consequences, as I'm sure you like to do—well, compare these options with what you could do with animus magic." He faced Vulture again and said, "Enchant this dragon to feel guilt for all of the terrible things he's done. You may speak."

Vulture's face collapsed in shame. "I'm a monster," he whispered, covering his face with his wings. "All those dragons I hurt…all the families I've ruined. How did I become this? How could I ever make up for everything I've done?"

Qibli's jaw dropped. It was the most befuddling and unimaginable thing he had ever seen.

Darkstalker brushed Qibli's wing with his to get his attention. He looked back at him and Darkstalker said over Vulture's sobbing, "If we bring this dragon back to the Scorpion Den, he'll likely give up his entire treasury, disband his little gang of ruffians, and dedicate his life to making the city a better place. Wouldn't it be better to leave him like this than to kill him? Wouldn't it be better for everyone?"

It took Qibli a little while to find a part of him that didn't whisper  _Yes_  to that question. The logical side of him said  _Yes_  first: this version of Vulture had the capacity to do a lot more good for the dragons that surrounded him; if he was simply killed, then that wouldn't do anything to fix the problems that the Outclaws had tried to solve.

And there was a small but unavoidable part of his soul that said  _Yes_  as well. It was the spiteful part of his soul that would take great joy in seeing Vulture donate all of his gold to the poor, knowing that the original Vulture would be squirming in agony at such a sight. It was the same part of his soul that also would have also taken great joy in listening to Vulture scream in agony while his executioners set him on fire.

The part of him that said  _No_  was a strange but very powerful intuition in his brain that told him that every dragon deserved to stay who they were if they wanted to—even if that dragon was someone who deserved death. The only problem was that he wasn't entirely sure how much he believed that intuition, especially for someone like Vulture…or for someone like Darkstalker.

"What makes manipulating a dragon's mind with animus magic any different from using animus magic on anything else?" Darkstalker asked. "By tweaking their minds, we could fix all of the broken dragons in the world. You could have made your mother someone who was proud of you, and who loved you. I could have done the same for my father. I know I should have. It would have been a little bit better than killing him, I suppose."

 _I'd rather have a loving mother than a dead one as well,_  Qibli begrudgingly admitted to himself.  _Does Darkstalker have a point? Is it okay to change the way dragons think and act if it means they can be a better influence? Or is that just the evil part of my soul telling me that? Maybe I should ask Moon what she thinks. She'd know the right answer._

Darkstalker shrugged. "Or, if you are committed to staying out of dragons' minds…." He turned back to Vulture and said, "Enchant this dragon to return the way he was before my last enchantment. And stay quiet."

The confusion and fear and anger that welled back up in Vulture was an odd combination of unsettling and relieving for Qibli. On one talon, Qibli felt all of his fears returning back to him, as if Vulture had entered the cavern a second time. But on the other talon, it felt like things were as they should be once again—as if the Vulture wracked with guilt had been an anomaly that threatened to destroy the balance of the universe.

"I guess I see your point," Qibli admitted to Darkstalker, even though saying it made him want to wash out his mouth for the next month. "But I still don't know if I agree with it. And I definitely don't think what you did to the NightWings and to all the dragons at Jade Mountain counts as 'fixing broken dragons'."

"My enchantment didn't  _force_  dragons to always trust me," Darkstalker said, taking a few steps toward Qibli. "You had the willpower to question your own mind when I had enchanted it, didn't you? It was still their choice to trust those newfound instincts, just like…how…. What's that sound?"

Qibli's ears picked up a muffled whirring sound, then his shoulder picked up a soft vibration coming from his bag. Gently, he opened it up and pulled out the strange telescope-hourglass contraption that he'd been holding onto. The attached hourglass was spinning rapidly around the ring that held it, speeding up when he pointed it closer to Darkstalker and Vulture.

"Where did you get that?" Darkstalker asked in a hushed voice.

"I found it in the Night Palace," Qibli said. "In Anenome's—" He paused, remembering that Anenome was still holding onto Turtle's cloaking stick. "In an old SeaWing chamber."

"That was a gift I made for Fathom," Darkstalker said nostalgically, and the torch washed over with blue. "Well, I intended to keep it for myself, but I made it to give Fathom some reassurance that our souls weren't being destroyed. I let him keep it for himself after a few months of hearing wave upon wave of worries barraging his mind, but I guess he didn't want to hold onto it after I left." He gave a proud little smile at his invention. "I call it a soul reader: it measures the amount of good and evil you have in your soul."

"A soul reader," Qibli echoed. He set the contraption down and watched as the spinning hourglass slowly wound down and came to a stop.

The sand inside began to settle. The lower bell was brimming with sand as white as IceWing scales. And in the upper bell, only about six or seven black grains remained.

Darkstalker stared at it, disbelief washing over his face.

"No, that can't be right," he said, glaring closely at the sands in the hourglass. "Did you mess with it somehow? Did Turtle put a new spell on it?"

"No," Qibli answered. "I didn't even know it was enchanted in the first place."

Darkstalker snatched the soul reader from the ground and flipped it over, as if looking for signs of tampering. "It must be broken," he mumbled. "How did I word it last time…?" He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. "When this soul reader is pointed at a dragon, enchant it to measure the good and evil in that dragon's soul and reveal it in the drifts of sand. Black sand to mark the amount of good, white sand to show the amount of evil or damage to that dragon's soul."

 _Oh,_  Qibli thought.  _Black sand measures goodness. Makes sense, coming from a NightWing._  It also made sense given what it read for Darkstalker's soul.

Darkstalker pointed the soul reader at Vulture, who looked thoroughly disinterested in the device and maintained a stoic glower at Darkstalker as he set it down. The hourglass whirred around and around, then rocked back and forth a few times, then stopped. The sand inside was nearly entirely white, with only a few flakes of black sitting on top.

"Now  _that's_  logical," Darkstalker said. "He's obviously terrible. So it's working now." He took a deep breath and spun the reader around so it pointed back at him.

Around and around the hourglass tumbled, stirring the sands inside.

And then it came to a stop, and the sands all settled. And just as before, the mountain of white sand completely eclipsed the pathetic remains of black that peppered the upper bulb.

"That's impossible!" Darkstalker shouted, batting the soul reader away from him with a swipe of his claw. Qibli dove down to catch it so that it wouldn't shatter against rocks.

"I protected my soul!" Darkstalker fumed. "First with the scroll and now with my wristband. I did everything right. I should have kept this from happening. I'm supposed to be  _good!_ "

Qibli was amazed by how much this upset Darkstalker. The veins in his neck puffed up like livid snakes under his scales, and his entire being seemed to swell up to twice his original size.  _I can take advantage of this,_  Qibli realized.  _This is a perfect opportunity to get through to him._  "You only protected yourself from your magic," he pointed out gently. "If my grandfather is bad too, then there must be other ways you can corrupt your soul. Maybe it was the things you did, not the spells you cast."

"But I had  _good reasons_  for everything I did," Darkstalker said sharply. "Even the things that seemed to be bad."

"What about the IceWing plague? Why did you send that?" Qibli asked.

"To protect my tribe! To keep the IceWings from attacking us!" Darkstalker snapped.

The torch flared violently and turned a sinister shade of blue.

Darkstalker slammed his claws into the ground, shaking the cavern and sending cracks through the floor. "Yes I did!" he shouted at the torch. "The IceWings despise me and they despise the NightWings and they always have and they always will! They were going to attack us and the NightWings needed my protection. Turn back right this instant!"

"Maybe you actually did it for revenge," Qibli said timidly. Darkstalker shot a fiery glare at him, and suddenly Qibli started to think that maybe this whole 'try and get through to him' idea wasn't terribly bright.

"The IceWings  _deserve_ my revenge," Darkstalker spat. "After everything they've done, they deserve all the wrath I send their way."

 _There's the Darkstalker I know_. "Listen to yourself," Qibli said, trying to sound brave as he curled himself up and backed away from Darkstalker like a cornered sheep. "Listen to how much hate you're filled with."

Darkstalker let out a roar that shook the entire planet. "LOOK AT THE HATE  _THEY_  BROUGHT!" he boomed. "Look at all the accursed hate  _they_  brought! They tried to take away everything I loved! They killed my mother! They almost killed my sister! They would have killed me if they could, and they would have killed the rest of the NightWing tribe if I hadn't stopped them.  _They're_  the ones who are filled with hate!  _They're_ the ones who are twisted and evil, not  _me!_ "

Three heartbeats passed, and the torch changed back to an eerily warm orange. There was a long silence. Qibli was too shaken to say anything more, and Darkstalker…it was tough for Qibli to tell what was going through Darkstalker's mind. Was he finally starting to hear his own voice? Was he finally starting to accept that he really  _was_  evil? Was he starting to wonder if it would really be all that bad, resigning himself to a fate as a malevolent tyrant?

_No, no, no, don't let him slip down that path. It'll be the end of Pyrrhia if he slips down that path._

Qibli calmed his heart down as much as possible as quickly as he could. With as much sincerity as he could muster, he spoke the words, "I'm sorry."

Darkstalker's icy blue eyes shot up at him. Qibli decided to wait until they softened up a bit before continuing.

"No dragon with a heart wants to learn that they're the bad guy. It must be a hard thing to accept."

Qibli was expecting Darkstalker to lash out again, to deny it all, or to kill him on-sight and fly away to destroy the rest of the continent. But instead he just sat there, without a hint of anger on his features anymore.

"But I don't think your soul is completely lost," Qibli said. "I think that if you start to make the right choices, and start to relearn the difference between right and wrong, then those black grains of sand will start coming back."

"Do you really think so?" Darkstalker asked. Qibli couldn't tell if he was asking that hopefully or mockingly: the tone seemed to imply a weird combination of both.

"Of course I do," Qibli said, with a tone that he hoped was less questionable. "Look at Peril. It wasn't even a year ago that she was the most destructive and murderous sociopath in the entire Sky Kingdom. But she changed. She probably wouldn't ace your soul reading test, but she's made enough progress for me to be able to call her my friend. You can turn your soul around too, if you're willing to nurture it, and to let it be healed."

"How can I do that if I don't even know right from wrong?" Darkstalker asked.

" _You_  may not," Qibli said. "But I think you know some dragons who do."

"I'm not sure how willing they'd be to help me," Darkstalker murmured. "Maybe I could enchant them to be more—"

"—No!" Qibli interrupted. "I mean, I'm glad that you're taking this seriously, but maybe it would be safer to do this with as little magic as possible, and definitely no magic that reshapes other dragons' minds against their will."

Darkstalker sighed and sat back down on his throne. He scowled viciously at his talons, as if he were blaming them explicitly for turning him evil.

Qibli wanted to just sit there beside him and let him sulk and meditate over everything, but he knew that he had to keep pushing.  _Darkstalker could easily change his mind and forget about the soul reader. He still has a lot of power, which means he's still a threat. I can't leave him be now._

"So, do you think the soul reader is right about you?" Qibli asked.

Darkstalker looked up. "Why? Do you think it's wrong?"

"No," Qibli said, perhaps a little bit more hastily than he should have. "I think it's…unfortunately pretty accurate. But if you think it's reading your soul right too, then that would make me pretty optimistic."

"I don't really have much of a choice," Darkstalker said begrudgingly. "My magic has never failed me before, and the soul reader has never misread anyone else. I'm not stupid enough to give in to the urge to try and wheedle out an exception explicitly for me." He sighed. "I just can't believe I wasn't able to stop this from happening, even with my ability to see the future."

Qibli swallowed.  _Please work, please work, please work._  "Listen, Darkstalker. The NightWings—"

"—I know," Darkstalker said grimly. "I know. I…I know. They're too great and too fragile of a tribe to deserve an evil king as their ruler." He took off his crown and turned it into dirt. The dust sifted through his talons and landed in a sad pile beneath him. "I'll abdicate the NightWing throne and send the tribe back to the Rainforest Kingdom. Queen Glory will rule over them once again."

And to Qibli's surprise, the torch stayed orange.

Darkstalker actually did it. He actually gave up his kingdom. A horrible, evil, sinister, and nearly soulless dragon, who had once scared his entire tribe into abandoning their home, actually renounced his authority over the NightWings. And he did it solely because he realized he was evil.

"You have no idea how hard this is for me to do," Darkstalker choked out. "Glory is going to send me to her prison, and the best-case-scenario is that I'll be there for a few months, in an enchanted cell that prevents me from using my magic. I might make an honest attempt to not break out, but that won't be enough to get most dragons to trust me again. It's very hard to find a timeline where I keep my self-control and don't do anything terribly destructive. It's even pretty likely that you and Moon never trust me again. I see a lot of loneliness." He sighed lowly, looking very tentative about the words he was speaking. "But I need to make an effort to show that I'm truly repenting, or else the timelines keep pulling me right back to the NightWing throne. My soul remains evil, I stay alone, and I'm unhappy and unfulfilled for as far out as I can see."

Qibli felt his heart thumping with sympathy. All this time, he thought that Darkstalker owned the fact that he was evil, and simply sought power so that he could impose his will over other dragons. All this time, he thought that Darkstalker was a demonic tyrant through and through, and that he only ever pretended to be something else because it was convenient for him. All this time, he thought that Darkstalker was a dragon who exemplified villainy in all of its forms, eclipsing the gangsters and overlords of the Scorpion Den by mere virtue of his own omnipresent power.

Now he was seeing Darkstalker for who he truly was: a smart and well-intentioned dragon who had the ignorance, ambition, and power to destroy his soul. And to Qibli, that was almost  _more_  terrifying. Because the old Darkstalker was a caricature—an easily identifiable pinnacle of evil who was far detached from the rest of society. This Darkstalker—the real Darkstalker—was much more accessible and much easier to become than the evil tyrant.

"I've thought about your offer to make me an animus," Qibli said. "My answer is no."

Darkstalker's eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sound of that. "Wow.  _This_  didn't show up in any of the futures I saw. You always said 'no' because you didn't trust me not to tamper with you when I gave you your powers."

"I think you were right about me," Qibli explained. "You and I  _are_ more alike than I'd want to admit. You justify doing bad things for the same reasons I would, and you want to be powerful, just like I do. Because the more power you have, the more good you can do, right?" He looked at the soul reader in his talons and wondered to himself,  _how much of my soul is already gone?_  "If I was born an animus, I might have become the next Darkstalker. I might have been careless and impulsive, and maybe even vengeful at times. I might have thought to myself that I was safe to use my magic however I wanted once my soul was protected, and then I would have done horrible things with it, all in the name of reaching a better future."

He looked back up at Darkstalker and said, "I don't want to become the next Darkstalker. So I don't want to be an animus anymore."

Darkstalker let out a low hum, and closed his eyes. He was silent for a long time, letting the echoes of the three dragons' breathing fill the air. Qibli began to wonder if Darkstalker had fallen asleep, but then he emitted a sigh and lifted his eyes. He picked up the crown he'd made for Qibli, whispered a long enchantment to it, then set it down very gently.

He reared his head over to Vulture, and said with a half-whisper, "He's  _your_ grandfather, Qibli. Let me know what should be done with him."

Qibli cast a long gaze at Vulture. The SandWing's talons were still trapped beneath his feet and his jaw was still clamped shut from Darkstalker's curse.  _What should be done with him?_

He could ask Darkstalker to turn Vulture back into the guilt-stricken dragon he once was, and send him back to the Scorpion Den a new man. There would be no more Talons of Power, and Vulture would help all of the poor and wounded SandWings that infested the streets.

Or he could ask Darkstalker to make Vulture fly to Queen Thorn's Palace, turn himself in, and have Thorn take care of the mess that his Talons had made. Then justice could be served officially, from the dragon who was meant to serve it.

Or he could ask Darkstalker to turn Vulture into a wise reformer, who could benevolently turn the Talons of Power into a force of good for everyone in the Scorpion Den. They could replace the Outclaws and rebuild the city into something the Sand Kingdom can be proud of.

Or maybe he should just kill Vulture now. Or give Vulture the option of either dying or being sent away as a prisoner.

There were so many options. So many things he could do….

But in the end, there was only one thing he felt comfortable saying, and it was the option that he hated the most. He sighed and said, "Just…take him back to where he was, and make him forget everything that happened here."

Darkstalker frowned. "Are you sure? Even after everything he's done, you're just going to send things back the way they were? You know how much better things will be without him."

"Believe me, I want more than anything to see this dragon disappear," Qibli said bitterly. "But animus magic isn't the right way to do it. Queen Thorn and I…we'll figure it out the right way."

"The 'right' way might involve a lot more bloodshed," Darkstalker noted.

"I know," Qibli said. "But I feel like somehow, for some reason, it's still better this way. Maybe it's fairer, or maybe it's by the scrolls, as it were. Using animus magic to try and solve all of the world's problems leads to its own burdens as well. I don't want to rely on it anymore."

"Very well," Darkstalker said in a low voice. He pointed to Vulture and said, "Disenchant this dragon from my obedience spell, and send him back to where he was before I brought him here, without any memory of what happened after he got transported."

And just like that, Qibli's grandfather vanished. He and his Talons would go right back to wreaking havoc on the Scorpion Den, and Qibli was left wondering when or how he would get the next opportunity to bring them down, and how many innocent lives they'd ruin before it happened.  _How many lives would it have to be for this to have been a mistake?_ Qibli wondered. Part of him worried that the answer was just one.

"You can come out now, Moon," Darkstalker said, his snout pointed at the sky. "I know you're there: I can see you in the futures."

 _Moon's here?_  Qibli thought, startled. A wave of uncertainty crashed over him. Did he say the right things in her eyes? Was he too empathetic with Darkstalker? Or was he too mean-spirited? Maybe he shouldn't have been so verbal about how much like Darkstalker he thought he was. Maybe he should have tried to convince Darkstalker to give up more than just his throne.  _Oh Moon, I wish you had been here to talk to Darkstalker too. You would have done so much better than I did._

_But I still did it! I helped convince Darkstalker to give up his power. I helped him realize how tyrannical and evil he had become. We might actually be safe for now._

There was a shifting in the darkness above them, and a patch of the rocky wall changed into a mix of green and pink that Qibli immediately recognized as Kinkajou. Behind her, Moon poked her head out and flew down with her RainWing friend.

"Oh, you're here too," Darkstalker said offhandedly to Kinkajou as they both touched down next to Qibli. Moon wrapped her tail around his, gently so that she avoided the stinger at the end, and for a brief second they exchanged a glance that gave Qibli the impression that everything was going to be okay.

"Well gee, thanks for the enthusiastic welcome," Kinkajou said snidely as little bubbles of yellow and orange popped around her talons.

"You're really going to give up the NightWing Kingdom?" Moon asked. "You're not going to change your mind the moment you fly back?"

"I  _really_  don't want to give it up," Darkstalker admitted. He wore his face like there was something bitter stuck to his tongue. "I  _want_  that power. I know that I—…I  _thought_  that I could do so much good with it. I thought that I could rule benevolently and make Pyrrhia a better place. But I can't. Not if my soul is more far gone than my father's was when I killed him. Not when I can't trust that the futures that I see really  _are_  good. There's a large part of me that feels that being a tyrannical ruler is still better than not ruling at all, but I'm not even sure if that's true. I don't see all that power making me ever feel as happy as I was when I was with Clearsight."

Darkstalker picked up the crown he'd made for Qibli and stared at his warped reflection in the metal. "I enchanted this crown without thinking I'd actually put it on," he said. "I still don't know if I will, or if I can. But if I do, it will end everything."

"What will it do?" Moon asked.

Darkstalker looked like he was on the verge of tears. "It will take away my animus powers, and disable all the spells I've ever cast on other dragons. Including myself."

Moon and Kinkajou gasped, and rings of bright pink poured over the RainWing's scales. Qibli had already guessed what his enchantment was going to do, but he, too, was startled to find that he was right.

Moon shook her head and blinked several times. "So, your immortality—"

"—will be surrendered, yes," Darkstalker finished.

"But you're more than two thousand years old," Moon said. "Aren't you going to die the moment you put it on?"

"There is one final enchantment I put on the crown that should keep that from happening," Darkstalker explained. "It will restore my body to the way it was when Clearsight put me to sleep." He popped a smile up at Moon. "Being huge was fun and all, but it's honestly more trouble than it's worth."

"Yes! I super-approve of that spell," Kinkajou said. "But it's kind of a bummer we don't get to save the world from you. Moon came up with this great idea where we gave you an enchanted strawberry and—OW!" Little snakes of red slithered over her scales as she rubbed the spot where Moon elbowed her.

"I can see the things that are destined to happen in this future," Darkstalker said, acting as if he didn't hear a word Kinkajou said. "Just as before, I'm going to be in Glory's prison for a long time. It'll be months before anyone else grows willing to give me another chance. And to their credit, it'll also be months before I start to show signs of my soul recovering from the damage I've done to it. I see myself growing bitter over my own powerlessness, constantly regretting this decision, constantly wishing I'd fallen back and stolen the throne instead.

"But I also see things that help me make it through the darkness." Darkstalker looked up to the sky—up to the tiny dot of blue light that reached all the way through the ruins of Agate Mountain. "I'll always be looking forward to visits from my favorite mind-reader, who sneaks in new scrolls for me to read every week. I'll also be looking forward to seeing Qibli from time to time for a friendly game of chess."

"I learn how to play chess?" Qibli asked, taken slightly aback.  _How does he talk me into_ that _?_

"Not really," Darkstalker said. "You're pretty terrible at it. But you get better with every game, and I start to grow proud of your progress." He paused for a moment and frowned. "There's…someone else that I see in the future as well—someone I only get to see if I put on this crown."

"Is it me?" Kinkajou asked.

"No, and please quit talking," Darkstalker said underhandedly.

"HEY!" Kinkajou stomped on the ground and pouted, "I am so sick of this stupid spell!"

"Moon…do you see her too?" Darkstalker asked. "I can't make any sense out of it. Why would I only see her if I  _gave up_  my powers? How can she still exist  _without_  me using them to bring her back?"

"Because she really is still alive," Moon said with a quiet smile. "I've already met her, actually. And she wants to meet you, but she's worried about the dragon you've become."

"Mother," Darkstalker whispered. "I can't believe it. How? The IceWings killed her, didn't they? And even if they didn't, she must've—how is she still alive after all this time?"

Moon's eyes were hiding a secret from Darkstalker. Qibli got the impression that whatever the story behind Darkstalker's mother was, it was somehow  _worse_  than Darkstalker could imagine.  _Might not be the best time to spark a thirst for vengeance into Darkstalker._

"She can tell you about it when you've met her again," Moon said. "But she's probably not going to trust you as long as you have your powers. And honestly, after learning about everything you did…neither am I."

"I know," Darkstalker said sadly. "My whole life, I've had to choose between being loved and being powerful. And my whole life, I've tried to avoid that choice every way I knew how. Protecting myself with scrolls and armbands, casting spells that made everyone like me, trying to bring Clearsight back, even this negotiation with Qibli on animus magic. But I knew that at some point, I'd have to choose one over the other. And I think for the longest time, I secretly believed that I'd choose power in the end, and I just slowly grabbed more and more, bit by bit, while gradually letting go of the dragons I held close to me. I've been doing that for so long now, and it's done nothing but make me evil and miserable. It's time to change that. Hopefully it's not too late."

"It's not too late for me," Moon said, her eyes wide and hopeful.

"It's not too late for me either," Qibli chimed in.

Darkstalker brushed the crown with his talons. "This wasn't how things were supposed to go," he mused. "I was supposed to make Qibli an animus, and we would rule Pyrrhia together, or at least until he found a way to circumvent the other spells that I would have cast on him later."

"Glad I made the right call," Qibli said in a tone that he felt probably should have been a lot less friendly.

"The weird thing is that I don't feel guilty about anything," Darkstalker said. "I just feel…disheartened, knowing that I've grown so misguided. All the things that I've done that I thought were for good reasons…." He sighed. "Moon, please tell me you'll talk to me, and help me find out where I went wrong."

"Of course," Moon said softly.

"Qibli, you were the one who gave me this idea. Please don't let me hate you too much for it," Darkstalker said as he folded his claws around the outer edge of the crown. "Goodbye, animus powers. Here's hoping that without them, I can learn how to become a better dragon. I wanted to use my powers to bring peace, but maybe I was destined to bring peace by taking my powers away."

And Darkstalker put on the crown.

And there was peace.


End file.
